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Lying is the Devil’s playmate… and also mine.

As far as I’m concerned it’s my job, as an auntie, to lie and torture my niece and nephew. Lying is a wholesome family activity. What? It was either that or teaching them how to play beer pong.

A few months ago my niece, Hannah, asked me how old I was. I lied and said I was 21-years-old. I’d forgotten all about it until Hannah called me at work last Friday in a fit that her brother, Carter, told her I was really 35-years-old.

I don’t know why he’s out to get me. First he calls me a cougar and now this?

Hannah’s defense was that I never lie to her… um, yeah.

I calmed her down and explained to her that her brother was the big, fat liar and that I was, indeed, 21-years-old.

“But Aunt Sarah, you’re older than my daddy.”

“Sweetie it’s all about the emotional age. Your daddy is much, much older than I am. Don’t I look younger than your daddy?”

“Yes.”

Whew. It’s like she knew all future Christmas and birthday presents were riding on that one answer. Carter later decided I must be younger than his dad because I was much smaller.

I’m pretending he called me skinny.

P.S. I’m totally lying on the beer pong thing, by the way. I suck way too much at the game to attempt to teach anyone.

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